Holding Infinity
by kohakumiyu
Summary: To see what should never have been seen, to know what should never have been known...What would you do if you know the way the world will be thousands of years into the future? What would be the right thing to do? What were the choices made by a young woman that left the proud Elvenking of the Woodland Realm to hold such hatred for mortals?
1. Chapter 1

The idea came to me years ago when I read the LOTR books, and I just wondered why the Queen of Eryn Galen was never talked about. I also wondered what made Thranduil so bitter and so harsh towards the world and towards everyone outside of Eryn Galen. I thought deep down he had a beautiful heart just from how much he cared for his people.

Such a person, such a being, could not have been alone and miserable all the time. And when the last Hobbit movie came out, despite the additions to the original passages of the book, when he spoke to Tauriel near the end of the movie I knew I had the right idea. At some point in his life, he must have loved someone. He must have loved someone deeply.

Author

Prologue

_"In a great hall with pillars hewn out of the living stone sat the Elvenking on a chair of carven wood. On his head was a crown of berries and red leaves, for the autumn was come again. In the spring he wore a crown of woodland flowers, but always with red petals, just as his crown of autumn was always of red leaves."_

_"Go to the Dunedains, and there is a man among them, I knew his father. He was a good man, and his son will become a great man. She would hath had thee go and meet him if she could. She would hath said, tis thy fate to walk down the path with this man."_

_"Thy mother loved her son more than anything in the world, more than herself," Thranduil said softly in the broken stone halls to his only son who looked back at him in disbelief. This was the first time his father had spoken of her since that faithful day. _

_And suddenly the young prince knew, despite what he had thought, the elf-king had not forgotten about her. And that even now, the elf-king loved her, truly, madly, deeply, and it was years of loneliness and sorrow had turned him bitter and cold. _

_"If this is love, take him from me. I do not want it. Why does it hurt so much?" Tauriel cried upon the fallen body of her beloved, knowing that the cold distant ruler of her land would never be able to provide an answer. _

_Yet to her surprise he spoke; he spoke with such sorrow and tenderness that she knew he understood. She knew, once upon a time in the icy elf-king's life, he loved and loved deeper than anyone: "because t' was real."_

_"Mithrandir, thou ask for too much. Arda took my father, my people, and my Queen. I hath nothing left to give, wizard. Tis not our fight. I will shed my people's blood no more over thy war."_

_"Ah, the Queen of Eryn Galen. She fought the darkness, the evil. She would have wanted this, Thranduil."_

_"Well, she is not here to want this, is she? Thy fight, thy war, hath taken her away. I wish for no part of this. Leave, wizard, and never step on my land again."_

Chapter 1

In the year 3434 of the Second Age, the army of the Last Alliance, led by Gil-galad and Elendil, fought a valiant battle against armies of orcs and other creatures loyal to Sauron on the plains of Dagorland outside of Mordor. The elves led by Oropher and Amdír charged prematurely at the enemies and were driven back. Eventually the Alliance was able to win the battle, but at the cost of many lives, including Oropher, the Sindarin King of the Silvan Elves of Greenwood the Great, and Amdír the King of Lórien. When the Last Alliance won the battle, they were able to attack the Black Gate and proceeded to Udûn. In 3441, Sauron's physical form was destroyed and the Barad-Dûr was razed to the ground. In the aftermath of the War, many Elves of Gil-galad's following depart to Valinor, ending the Noldorin realms in Middle-Earth, commencing the Third Age.

After Sauron was defeated, Thranduil, Oropher's son and heir, and the remnant of the formerly grand army of his people headed back north.

It was a sorrowful sight.

The golden army with its red capes of glory had left Eryn Galen with such magnificence and strength now trudged back with such weariness and grief. They only wanted to go home; it had been a long and bloody journey in their fight for Middle-Earth's freedom. And now they only wanted to go home to find peace and rest for their tired souls.

But in a time of turmoil after the war, despite the vanquishing of Sauron where there were still large remnants of orcs and creatures of Sauron running about, it was mere wishful thinking. As they passed through the Brown Lands, the pale-haired elf, who seemed to be the leader, raised his right hand into the air, and the army halted in unison despite of their weariness that bespoke of years of training and discipline.

Arin Calad held her breath as she hid among the long grasses; they couldn't have heard her, could they? Once she had seen the glint of their armors on the horizon she had immediately ducked down into the field of grass and stayed there, immobile. She had heard of the elves' superior senses before and she did not want to test them.

She watched with her heart pounding so loud that she was afraid the elves might hear it, and crossed her fingers as the tall pale-haired elf that commanded the elven army glanced around with narrowed eyes. His gaze and scrutiny halted on the eastern horizon just behind her. For a second Arin Calad was not sure if he was looking at her or at the horizon. She felt those silver eyes could pierce through the grasses and the elves standing between them. But when she felt the ground trembled beneath her body, she knew the elf was not looking at her. There was something coming from the east, and she was stuck right in the middle.

Cold sweat covered her free hand that were against the hard dirt floor; she had avoided a full on battle for so long. She did not want to be in one now, because she was certain she would not be able to survive a full on battle with anyone. Arin Calad was already surprised she had survived this long out there in the wild by herself, and she did not want to tempt fate.

But she didn't have a choice. She watched as the pale-haired elf spoke something in a lyrical foreign language and the elves turned to as one to face the east and held out their sword, readied for battle.

If she stood up now, the adrenaline-filled elves would slash her down without any question. She had to stay down, but if she stayed down, whoever was coming from the east would trample over her and she would die anyways. It was Catch-22, and like the soldiers during the war, she could find no way out.

Arin Calad was scared; she wanted to cry and curl up into a ball, asking herself why she decided to leave the snowy plains north of Iron Hills. She knew why; if she didn't leave, she would starve to death during the coming winter, just as she nearly had the winter before when she first arrived. She could venture out towards the dwarves settlement in the Iron Hills and ask for their help instead of just stealing clothes, weapons and food from them. But she chose not to because if she let slip about something, it might destroy everything, and she could not have that on her conscience.

She couldn't.

So she decided to move south, to somewhere that's warmer where she could scavenge for food and survive alone.

So here she was, stuck in the middle of an impending battle, simply because she did not want to starve.

Arin Calad glanced back at the pale-haired elf; she could see his hands loosely holding his twin swords, his demeanor calm and fearless despite of the situation, despite of the weariness of his elves, despite the injuries some sustained.

How could he be so calm?

How could he not be afraid?

How could he sit there so straight and so tall as if nothing was wrong?

The vibration coming through the ground grew stronger; whoever or whatever was coming, was coming soon. Sure enough, within minutes she heard the growling of orcs behind her. Her hands begin to shake so much so that she had to release her hold on the bow she had been holding in fear that the elves would hear it clacking against the ground.

Arin Calad closed her eyes; she couldn't do this. She needed to run, to hide, to get as far away from here as possible. As thoughts swirled wildly in her mind, the orcs came upon the elves. She heard the pale-haired elf shouted something and heard the sound of arrows flying through the air before landing in their targets with loud thuds.

The elves did not miss, but there were a lot of orcs, and not even the elves could get them all at once. And so the orcs came rushing at the elves, and perhaps it was because of the dull brown and dark green colors of Arin Calad's clothes that blended her perfectly into the grasses and the ground, but they did not seem to see her at all; instead, they run past her, their blackened armors clanging loudly and their bloodied weapon slashing wildly.

By the time Arin Calad raised her head and opened her eyes, the orcs had passed her and were attacking the elves viciously. The elves were faster and more skilled, but the orcs were more brutal and there were more of them than there were elves, and soon the orcs were gaining grounds.

Arin Calad breathed in sharply; god, no, this wasn't fair. Her heart shuddered painfully as an elf fell to the ground, a crudely made spear perforating his body. She watched as the light left his eyes leaving it dull and blank, and his pale body crashed into the dirt, sending up a spray of dust and bloody.

She slowly got up from the ground and onto her knees, staring around her in what seemed to be hell on earth as bloody dyed the brown dirt black and bodies littered the ground like broken toys. Her eyes stung as tears swirled around the rims.

They didn't deserve this.

No one deserved this…this bloodbath.

Her eyes caught sight of the pale-haired elf, his swords weaving in and out among the orcs in a graceful yet deadly dance.

It was beautiful.

_He_ was beautiful.

And he was good, no, he was beyond good; he was magnificent. There were no spaces for any attacks to reach him as he wielded the twin silver swords with lethal accuracy. He alone took down a whole group of orcs even as the other elves fell prey to the orcs around them.

And now he was fighting against two orcs in front of him, but there was a third orc coming up behind him, one he didn't seem to see.

No…

Please, god, no…

But there didn't seem to be any god here; there were no one else here other than the elves, the orcs, and her. And none of the elves seemed to realize their leader was in danger, because they were all fighting for their life.

No one was there to help him.

No one…except for her…she could do something, and she knew she could, without any worries of future implications, because she knew he was supposed to live. This battle was not supposed to take away his life. He was not fated to die here in this godforsaken land of brown dirt and dying grass.

She could do this.

She could help.

Arin Calad reached out a trembling hand and grabbed hold of the compound bow; she reached back in one fluid motion and notched an arrow with well-practiced ease. She drew the bow back to her ear; she let out a slow measured breath and then allowed the arrow to fly. And flew it did, slicing straight through the air, piercing through the orc's head, and slammed into another orc behind it. But even as the arrow hit its first intended target, the pale-haired elf had already turned around, sensing the change of the air behind him. His silvery-blue eyes widened in faint surprise at the fallen orcs; and then he turned and stared straight at her.

The intensity of his gaze frightened her and she turned quickly away, focusing her attention on getting out of the battle alive. Just as her arrow had caught the attention of the elf, it had also caught the attention of the orcs. Several turned to her, licking their lips and growling hungrily. If her stomach could fall straight down and out of her, it definitely did at that moment. She swallowed and did her best to calm her palpating heart as she faced the horde of orcs. Her hand flew to the quiver on her back and within second she had another arrow strung and then fired. It went through two more orcs before she fired another one. However, that was the last arrow she fired, because by the time she fired that one, the next orc was too close for her to restring and shoot again. She moved automatically, trying to temper down her panic, as she hook the bow back onto the quiver before she slammed her fist into an incoming orc's face. She let out a whimper as she ducked a sword that threatened to decapitate her. She straightened and slammed her leg into another orc's side. She turned and as a tear fell down her cheeks she caught the silvery-blue eyes again. The silver glint in his eyes, the light in them, showed so much strength. And he was so close, just feet away from her now; his swords danced through the orc throngs with such elegance that it seemed closer to an art form than warfare.

But right now she was just too frightened to have any admiration for it as she tried to fight off the flood of orcs that seemed to all be heading her way. Another tear fell down her cheeks as she flung herself to the side to avoid being skewered by a spear. She fell down to the ground hard on her sides; her hands scrabbled against the dirt as she struggled to prop herself up. She couldn't do this. She wasn't a soldier. She never had any sort of battle training.

She just couldn't.

She couldn't…

Arin Calad glanced around her; it was still a rather hard fight, but the elves were losing. Their bodies were worn-out and their souls exhausted, and their wills were giving away. At this rate, the elves from Eryn Galen would be annihilated. She looked back at the pale-haired elf; he fought with such spirit, his eyes blazing brightly and his hair forming a shiny halo around his form under the brilliant sunlight.

He was so beautiful, like an angel, a vengeful angel, but an angel nevertheless. And he was fighting so hard for his people. With every elf that dropped in his sight, she could see the pain and anguish he felt from the way his blue eyes would flash silver.

He was fighting so hard to protect his people.

She couldn't let him die like this; this couldn't be the end for him; she couldn't let them, his people, just die like this.

She had to at least try.

Her hand reached into the pouch around her waist. She had never tested it before; it would have drawn too much attention, and it was also quite dangerous. If she didn't calibrate correctly; any test runs would likely take off her limbs. She was a lab tech and she was damn good at her job, but if she didn't need to, she didn't want to tempt fate. Distilling phosphorus from guano, and then making her own charcoal and finding sulfur in the wild were no easy tasks, but she had time and determination on her side.

From her innumerable chemistry classes, she learned patience, and from her job, she learned that not everything needed to be done in a lab. Mother Natures was the best chemical superstore a girl can hope for when stranded in the middle of nowhere with no money.

She prayed to all the gods and goddesses she knew from this land, and then crossed her fingers. She stood up, pushed back the heavy hood that covered her face, and flung back the cloak from her arms. And then with as much strength as she could muster she threw the bottle across the field into a pack of orcs, but not before she rubbed her thumb and index fingers together, creating a spark that inflamed the cloth corking the bottle.

What happened next became the stuff of legends for the Silvan elves of Eryn Galen.

Contrary to what Arin Calad thought, some of the elves did notice the orc making its way to their leader, unseen to the latter, but they were unable to do anything because just as Arin Calad thought, they were either not in range or trying to fight for their lives. And just as all seemed to be lost, a dark figure, heavily hooded and cloaked appeared out of nowhere, shot an arrow, black as the night, straight through that orc and the orc behind it seemingly without an ounce of effort.

The shot drew the attention of elves and orcs. The elves' new king followed the direction of the arrow and found the hooded figure. He did not know if the newcomer was a foe or a friend even if it had saved his life. Although Sauron had just been defeated, the dark times were not yet over. There were still pockets of evil lurking about, seeking to destroy members of the Free Alliance wherever it could.

The Elvenking narrowed his eyes and started to fight his way towards the figure.

With the ease and speed that only elves could hope to match, the figure shot off two more arrows before the orcs drew too close, forcing it to hang up its bow. However, instead of pulling out a close-range weapon, the figure punched and kicked its way through the throng. Each punch and kick was well placed and forceful, but mere body contacts were not enough to stop any full grown orc, and it wasn't long before the figure fell to the ground.

It lay there on the ground for roughly half a minute, a long time in the middle of the battle, but finally it got up. It flung back the heavy cloak and its large hood, revealing a human woman around her mid-twenties, but what was astonishing was not even the fact that she was a human woman, alone, and nowhere near a human settlement, or even her skills with a bow.

Her features were nothing extraordinary compared with the beauty of the elves. Her eyes were green, but overshadowed by the dark purple stains beneath them from fatigue and stress. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and her face gaunt, almost sickly so. Life has not been kind to the young woman.

But her hair, her hair was a vibrant shade of red, crimson red, like the fallen leaves in autumn. Strands of it escaped from her braid, fluttering wildly in the plains' wind like a wild prairie fire. And as she stood up, there was a fire in her eyes that made the ordinary green eyes shone as if someone had set fire within two emeralds.

And what she did next was unforgettable.

A bottle flew out from her hand, and less than a second later, a loud explosion reverberated through the grassland; the orcs, or rather parts of the orcs, splattered across the grasses, and when the smoke cleared there was a black crater surrounded by burnt or half burnt body parts of orcs.

A whole band of orcs had been destroyed in mere seconds.

Both sides, the elves and the orcs, turned and stared at the woman in disbelief as she slowly got up from the ground where she had been thrown by the force of the blast. The explosion had blown her hair free from the restraint of her braid, and the long wavy strands flew about her in a bright scarlet tempest.

To the elves she looked like fire personified.

But what were out of place were the trails of tears down her pale cheeks.

The other elves did not see her tears, but their leader did. The pale-haired elf was close enough to see the tears of fright and the shadows of terror in her eyes. His eyes, now shining bright silver, caught hold of those green orbs, as dark and deep as the leaves of Eryn Galen that he had grown up with, but before he could do anything, the woman took out her bow. She took an arrow and hooked something onto it before firing it into one the orcs who had just picked up a fallen axe from the ground.

The arrow slammed into it, lighting it up like a funeral pyre. Another arrow slammed into a different orc, lighting it on fire as well. The orcs shrieked and screamed in agony as the fire consumed them alive. They flailed and crashed into other orcs, setting them on fire as well. Smoke and the acrid smell of burnt flesh filled the grasslands.

The explosion and the subsequent fire took out the majority of the orc forces and their will to continue the battle. The tide turned, and the orcs fell back against the renewed spirits of the elves. Soon, the orcs fled, or at least the ones that had not been taken down by the elves.

The pale-haired elf searched the brutal battlefield where his kin lain like leaves scattered haphazardly by the wind across the plains, but there were no sign of the woman. The woman disappeared, vanished into the thin air as if she had never been there.


	2. Chapter 2

_The pale-haired elf searched the brutal battlefield where his kin lain like leaves scattered haphazardly by the wind across the plains, but there were no sign of the woman. The woman disappeared, vanished into the thin air as if she had never been there. _

It was less mysterious on Arin Calad's end.

She didn't vanish, or just disappeared. When the smoke and fire started, she ran towards the Greenwood forest.

It was a cowardly way of doing things, but she had run out of courage by then, and she didn't care. The fire and the explosion had scared the orcs, and she was certain even exhausted the elves would have no problem taking care of the rest. She did not want to stick around and get eaten by the remaining orcs or persecuted by the elves for being some kind of an evil spirit or whatever they might think of her after seeing the stunts she pulled.

She ran as fast and as long once she reached the forest. Even with their injuries and exhaustion, Arin Calad knew the elves had incredible stamina and they would easily be able to catch up to her once the battle ended. The elves were so close to home that she did not think they would bother to rest for a few days, even after a battle, before they return home, and since she was directly in the route of their way home, she either had to run fast or risk being discovered.

But once she was deep within the forest, it would be easier for her to hide, so it wasn't like she needed to run forever, just far enough.

The Greenwood forest was not the same dark and frightening place it was described to be in the Third Age. It was a beautiful lush forest filled with birds and animals with the golden sunlight drifting in between the leaves. The air was clean and fresh with a touch of the autumn cold mixed in with pines and evergreen.

It reminded her a bit of peppermint ice cream.

She didn't run for long, but then again, she didn't have to. Soon the forest thickened out and hid her presence and made her feel safe. Something she never thought she would feel in Greenwood after reading the dark menacing description the books had given it.

This Greenwood was what it was supposed to be like, before evil came and destroyed its peacefulness.

She'd stopped after a few miles, when her lungs were screaming and her sides aching for oxygen, and hauled herself up into one of the taller trees just before her body gave out after the adrenaline rush. As she heaved herself up onto one of the top branches, she could feel all the bruises and aches in her body catching up to her. She wrapped the coat tightly about her body and, within minutes, she was fast asleep.

When she woke up again, unsure if the elves had already passed her by during her slumber, she decided to continue northward in hopes of not running into them while scavenging for food and exploring the forest.

The forest proved to be fruitful, literally; she had found different types of berries and apples. Of course, she'd made sure she saw animals ate those fruits before she tried. Even though the fruits looked exactly like the ones in her world before, she did not want to take any chances. In the end, none of the things she had gathered were poisoned. In fact, she had found more food in the past few days while wandering through the forest than she had in months near the Iron Hills.

It was all a bit infuriating really. If she had known this she would have moved down south sooner.

Three weeks, and more than five hundred miles, later she had passed what later became known as the Mountains of Mirkwood and reached the Forest River. These were the days when the elves still lived in the forest instead of the series of caves and fortresses that later formed the Third Age Elvenking's Hall.

Arin Calad didn't remember that part; if she did, she would have been more careful about where she was going.

She remembered the Elveking's Hall's location on the north bank of the Forest River and just some miles upstream from Esgaroth, and she thought all elves lived within the confines of the caves. Unfortunately for her, that was not the case, yet. And more unfortunately for her, she would later become part of the reason why the Silvan elves began to isolate themselves to within the walls of the Hall, but that's getting too far ahead for now.

Autumn in Greenwood was a wonderful time. While not all trees' leaves changed color, some did, and orange, yellow and red leaves would swirl through the air about her, intermixing with the still predominantly dark green background. It was a watercolor painting she could only have dreamt of before this, and it delighted her.

For the first time since she arrived in Middle Earth, frightened, cold and hungry, a well of joy bubbled within her like an unground fountain rising to the surface.

She had grown up in a desert, and she had always enjoyed the temperate temperature with its change of seasons. Autumn was her favorite one. Her friends thought the season was rather morbid to be of her taste given that it precedes winter, the season of death for most vegetation. To her friends, autumn was the season of _dying_. To Arin Calad, however, autumn was the season of change.

The leaves on the trees, they would fall away in autumn, of course. They would all fall away until the trees become bare in winter, but then spring would come, and new leaves would grow out of those same trees that looked so forlorn in the winter. Those leaves would grow and prosper until autumn comes again.

It was a cycle.

Without winter, there would never be any spring. And autumn…autumn was the last hurrah for the leaves; they would put forth the most beautiful colors with all their strength until the very end. Be the best they can be, do all that they can, and put in all the effort they have…that was how life should be lived.

She lived by that philosophy before she came. She was focused and driven. She wanted things out of life and she worked hard for those things. When she was a little girl she loved dancing and singing, and she was good at them, but she wasn't great so she knew she would never make money that way. So she forced herself through the science classes, plowing through equations and catalysts that made her head spin. She was the youngest to receive her doctorate in chemistry in her class, and before she even graduated, she had an offer to work at Haley &amp; Gramacy, the largest pharmaceutical company in the world. The work was grueling with long hours, but it came with a six-figure income.

But when she landed here, none of that seemed to matter anymore. Her knowledge of chemistry helped her survive out in the woods, but the money, her job title of lead researcher, and all the time and effort she put in were not worth anything in Middle Earth. They did not help her scavenge better for food. They did not help her when she felt so alone and cold in the Iron Hills, and she thought she just couldn't take it anymore.

It was during one of those dark desperate nights she remembered a song her grandmother used to sing to her when she was little. That song was what first got her interested into singing; Colleen O'Malley, Arin Calad's grandmother, had a beautiful voice, and every night when she sang "Amazing Grace," it made Arin Calad felt so warm and so at home. When Colleen passed away, Arin Calad forgot that feeling.

But that night, in the forest, by herself, when she was so desperate, she remembered and in that dark night she sang again for the first time since her grandmother's death.

_Amazing grace!  
How sweet the sound.  
That sav'd a wretch like me!  
I once was lost, but now am found,  
Was blind, but now I see._

It was just a soft humming at first which slowly grew louder until she was shouting into the night air. And it felt so good. Her later tries were more tempered, and the warmth of the words covered her, allowing her to remember the same warmth she felt when Colleen sang. With singing also came the memories of dancing. Colleen would often take hold of Arin Calad's hand and danced with her around the house or the garden.

Colleen would come to every one of Arin Calad's recitals; she would always sit in the front row and she would take so many pictures that sometimes it was embarrassing. And afterwards, Arin Calad would always put on a short dance just for Colleen in their living room in whatever costume she had been wearing for the recital.

Colleen would have liked to be here. She would have enjoyed the nature for what it was worth. Collen was a strong woman; she would not have been afraid. She wouldn't have felt alone and scared.

Colleen wasn't there with her anymore, and Arin Calad didn't have the strength her grandmother did, but singing and dancing brought Arin Calad closer to Colleen. Arin Calad thought, after so long, she had forgotten Colleen's voice and the worn rough feeling of Colleen's fingers around her own. But she didn't. She remembered her and all the memories they had together. And those memories, the songs, the dances, kept Arin Calad alive in this wondrous but foreign land.

The dwarves, the elves, the humans, and all the other Free People in this world lived simply and wanted only simple things, peace and happiness for themselves and their families and friends. For once, in her life after Colleen, she met good, honest people. Certainly, they were not always perfectly good or honest in the little ways of life. Like people anywhere else, the Free People of Arda were just people, no matter what race they were. They were not perfect, and they made mistakes, sometimes, bad ones. But, in the end, they were still good people. And she wasn't just saying it because she read books about them.

From what she had seen of the dwarves in the Iron Hills, they were genuinely good people. Sure, they drank a lot and had atrocious manners, but they were stout-hearted and loyal.

The other races, too, have their good and bad traits.

But she wanted them to have the peace and happiness they deserve, peace and happiness she knew would eventually come to them at the end of Third Age.

Oh yea, it had surprised her when she realized she had ended up in the Second Age, so long before what she had read about, but in some ways, it was a good thing. She would be long gone when the actual events occur, and she would less likely be able to harm someone with her knowledge.

What she knew, she would take with her to her grave.

In the meantime, she would try to stay out of sight as much as possible, and perhaps enjoy the forest for Colleen, because although she was worried day to day about food, for the first time in ages, she felt good about herself. She was doing something that could at least in some way help others, even if indirectly; she wasn't just looking out for herself.

It felt good.

She was scared out of her wits on the battlefield in the Brown Lands, but she knew she did something that Colleen would have been proud of. She did something that she wouldn't have to push to the back of her mind and ignore.

The bruises on her knuckles and legs from punching and kicking had receded from its angry reddish purple to a blackish blue and some had even faded to yellowish green. Her body was still sore, partly from the battle and partly from walking every day for the past three weeks. But she still felt happy; it was like running a marathon. The body gets extremely tired, but the soul…the soul gets enlivened.

She executed several simple pirouettes, purposefully swirling the fallen leaves up from the ground around her into a colorful storm. She let out a delightful laughter as the yellow, orange, red, brown, and even green leaves flew about her body; she finished the routine with a Port De Bras Au Corps Cambre, bending her body backward and flinging her right arm upward. However, when she straightened back up, she nearly fell back on her butt. Her face lost all its previous colors as she stared at the pale-haired elf in front of her.


	3. Chapter 3

_When she straightened back up, she nearly fell back on her butt. Her face lost all its previous colors as she stared at the pale-haired elf in front of her._

Her right hand started towards the bow on her back.

"Thou may be swift, human," the pale-haired elf said calmly as he swept back his dark metallic grey cloak to reveal one of the twin silver swords by his side, "but not swift as I." Judging by the bulk on the other side; he probably had a second sword similar to the one just revealed on his left side as well. It seemed although this time, unlike before in the Brown Lands, he was without his armors, he was still carrying his swords.

Arin Calad swallowed nervously but met the icy blue gaze head on nevertheless: "do you want to test that out, Elda."

For a moment, the pale-haired elf just looked back at her; his icy blue eyes seemed to pierce straight through her like a wolf staring down at its prey. She fought the strong urge to reach back for her bow in self-defense. At five-feet-seven she was considered tall among her friends, but that was obviously before she ended up in Eryn Galen. To say the elf was tall would be an understatement; he was well over six-feet, and he was big. He was big, but he wasn't bulky; like the other elves, he was lithe and slender. But there was a presence about him that made him overpowering, and she wasn't just talking about his wide shoulders. It was the way he bore himself, his back straight and his stance proud. It was not quite arrogance but more of he knew exactly who he was and what he wanted, and it was quite intimidating, a feeling that was compounded by his hard marble façade.

Then, to her surprise, the elf's thin lips curved up slightly, not enough for an actual smile, but enough to show his faint amusement. However, Arin Calad didn't notice the slight change in the emotion; to her, he still looked rather like a wolf eyeing a fluffy white rabbit.

Well, she was no fluffy white rabbit.

She knew elves were fast; they were fast, agile, and very skilled in swordfight. She had read about it, and she had seen it out there in the Brown Lands.

She had seen him fight.

She had no doubt that the pale-haired elf would be able to not only dodge her arrow but decapitate her as well before she can even restring.

She didn't actually want to hurt him though; he was an elf, and though she was not sure exactly which elf he was, she just didn't want to hurt him. He had fought so hard for his people; she had seen the pain in his eyes when his people fell. She could tell he cared for his people, and cared for them deeply.

And she was not one of his people.

For all he could know, she was an enemy.

She didn't want to hurt him, but she also refused to go down without a fight. She refused to be jailed or killed for being suspicious even if she knew she looked kind of suspicious, a human wandering around in Eryn Galen and all.

The gears inside her brain started turning.

Reaching for her bow would be too obvious, and would take too long. That option was out. If she turned and run, she would lose the precious seconds she had in the turning motion.

The only option left would be to…

Well, this was going to be fun.

Here goes nothing, she thought grimly before she pushed off her feet and ran straight at the pale-haired elf. Her action must have surprised the elf because even from a few feet away she could see his pupil contracted sharply and a glint of silver passing through his eyes in surprise. She saw him reaching out a hand towards her; she flung her upper body backwards until her head nearly touched her heels, bent her knees, and slid past just under the elf's arm over the fallen leaves. She was so close to him that the fabric of his sleeves, warm with the heat of his body and lightly scented with pine and evergreen, just like the forest, brushed over her cheeks and almost made her stop abruptly, but she somehow managed to keep her composure together.

She didn't even allow herself to fully straighten before she took off into the forest. She didn't hear any sound behind her, but she knew he was right behind. She could feel that presence, that overwhelming presence and the cold scent of pine and evergreen that was just slightly stronger than the leafy smell of the trees around them.

The elf was fast; there was no way she could outrun him. She swept up a large freshly fallen branch from the ground as she weaved in and out through the trees, and clacked the black rings around her thumb and index fingers together, lighting the branch on fire. The freshness of the branch didn't really allow the wood to catch on fire but rather caused a thick plumb of smoke. She dropped the branch on the ground and run over it, allowing the smoke to cover her tracks, and then ducked behind a tree.

The minute she felt the pale-haired elf passed her, she turned and ran in the opposite direction.

The smoking branch would be effective only for a short while. The wet earth would prevent the fire from spreading and allow the wood to smoke for an hour or so, but once the elf doesn't find her he would probably double back. And while she didn't know about the tracking skills of this particular elf, Legolas, a Sinda elf from Eryn Galen, had amazing tracking skills. Arin Calad assumed this elf was either a Sinda or Silvan elf, since he was in Eryn Galen and all that, so he would probably be similarly adept in tracking.

She headed towards the Forest River but halt momentarily on the shores. God, the water was going to be freezing. Arin Calad glanced back behind her and then looked back at the river with an irate sigh.

Here it goes…

She clenched her hands and jumped, and nearly screamed.

The water was like ice or something colder than ice, maybe liquid nitrogen. It was so cold that the water bit into her body like thousands of needles. She sucked in a breath and forced herself to move through the freezing water until she couldn't feel her legs anymore. She held on and stayed in the water as long as she could to throw the elf off her trail, but finally she had to get out or risk hypothermia.

She dragged herself out of the river and onto the shores, her pale blue lips trembling and gasping for breath.

Cold.

So cold…

She struggled into the forest and gathered as much dry wood as she could find to start up a smokeless fire before she turned into an icicle.

Her leggings that had stuck to her and grew colder with each autumn breeze slowly dried off in front of the crackling fire. She wrapped her worn but thick cloak around her body. Well, guess elves didn't all stay inside the Elvenking's Hall. If that was the case, she needed to leave Eryn Galen as fast as she could.

Her head drooped tiredly; she tugged the hood over her head with a sigh. She had been feeling sleepier than usual lately, and this feeling usually came with the onset of a cold or flu. She hadn't gotten sick since she arrived in Middle Earth, and she didn't want to start now. She didn't usually get sick, but when she did it was always brutal. She would usually be sick for weeks, complete with fever and aching body, and the only thing that would cure her was antibiotics.

She doubted she would be able to find antibiotics even if she ventured into Mordor.

Sleep was more important at this point if she did not want to die from getting a flu. She would sleep, and then tomorrow she would leave Eryn Galen.

She climbed up to a nearby tree, crossed her fingers, hoping she would not wake up sick, and fell asleep.

She was woken up early next morning by the sound of a bird past her tree. She sat up and took in her condition; she didn't feel worse, thank goodness, but she was also still tired. Arin Calad let out a breath and slid down the tree, wincing slightly as her sore body protested the movement. She took a step but felt the fabric around her legs shifted loosely. She bent down and tightened the laces around her boots. But as she glanced up she saw a pair of grey boots in front of her. Her head snapped up so fast that something cracked audibly.

Her eyes widened at the now familiar sight of the pale-haired elf standing a few feet away.

"How did you get here?" Arin Calad asked, trying to not sound as scared and startled as she felt.

"I followed thee," the pale-haired elf replied; he wore the same clothes she saw him in yesterday, the same grey leggings, boots, robe, and a metallic dusk red cloak that fluttered behind him like a roaring fire. Either all his clothes looked the same or he never went back to wherever he lived.

"You couldn't have. I went into the…" Arin Calad stammered.

"The river?" The elf said, that faint smile once again curving up his lips, and this time she saw it. It allayed her fear, but only slightly. "Yes, it clouded thy trail, but only for a short while. I picked it up again not far upstream."

"Upstream? How did you know I went upstream?" She asked, biting her lips, her entire body wounded so tight that she feared something might pop any second.

The pale-haired elf did not reply immediately as he looked back at those guarded green eyes, so like the dark green leaves around them. He knew why he searched for her upstream despite the fact that he should have lost her trail in the river. It would not have been hard to pick up her trail, but he would have had to check both downstream and upstream. However, he had gone upstream immediately, without any hesitation or doubt.

Foregoing the Elven Guards that usually followed him, he had gone into the forest for peace and solitary. He had been close to his father, Oropher, who raised him alone after his mother passed to the Undying Land when he was but a young elfling. But the Silvan elves had always been a close-knitted group, even more so compared to the other elves. He had grown up or was friends with all of the elves that fell in the Battle of Dagorlad. Their deaths distressed him deeply, and he wanted some time to mourn their losses alone.

He could see their faces. He could hear their cries. He could see his father fall right in front of him while he watched on, helpless, unable to do anything. Night after night since the Battle of Dagorlad, he could not stop those nightmares; they would just continue until he no longer slept, until he would spend all those waking nights wandering the land, looking for something to ease the pain within his heart.

There was one brief moment of respite, that day when he met her in the Brown Lands. They were on their way back to Eryn Galen when a group of orcs came upon them. The elves could have reached the forest in time to avoid the orcs, but the pale-haired elf knew the orcs were coming for them, and would go into the forest to hunt for the elves regardless. So he had the elves stand their ground, and fight.

The battle had been brutal; the elves were tired and the orcs, many. And one of the orcs had come up behind him, ready to slew him with one blow before it was taken down. The pale-haired elf had known the heavily hooded figure was not an elf from its stature and movements, despite its skill with a strangely designed bow.

The figure was not as fast as an elf, but there was a certain grace and beauty to the way the figure moved. But even then, the elf had not been prepared for what was revealed when the figure pushed back the hood.

She was exquisite; the pale-haired elf had never seen a being like her.

She was human; there was no doubt about that, with her round-shell ears. And her features, taken individually, were not exceptional in anyway, but her eyes were the same brilliant shade as the leaves in Eryn Galen, and her hair…her hair was the bright crimson shade of the setting sun.

She saved his life but he could see the fear in her eyes in the middle of that battlefield. He could see how frightened she was, in her eyes and in the pallor of her face, and without knowing why, he went towards her. And he got close, close enough to smell the faint sweet apple cider aroma that surrounded her, and it tugged on something deep within him. However, before he could reach her and verify the strange feeling within him, the woman somehow caused an explosion that shook the very ground he stood on. Dust and soot filled the air, and fire followed. And when everything cleared, she was gone, with only the smoke and debris to show that she was not a figment of his dreams.

He and his people reached home not long after the end of that battle in the Brown Lands, and he never saw her again, but he could not forget about her. He could not forget the terrified determination in her eyes. He could not forget the tears of fear that rolled down her face even as she fought to protect them.

He could not forget her.

He did not know where she came from or where she went, but he knew the Valar would lead him to her again.

And then on one of his sleepless night, near the bank of the Forest River, he saw her. Except this time, she was smiling and dancing in a storm of fallen leaves like a child. For a moment, the lines of weariness and strain disappeared from her face, and she looked no more than a young girl just into womanhood. She saw him and fear returned to her eyes, but even as her eyes darkened in fear, realization dawned upon him, and he knew…he knew, without a doubt.

He studied her carefully and discretely.

Humans were rarely frightened by elves; the usual reaction was awe and wonder, but this woman, she did not seemed at all awed. Instead, she was petrified. Yet, despite her fear, she stood up to him, much to the elf's amusement. Very few people talked back to him, even among the elves. But in addition to the woman's tenacious audacity, she was intelligent. She seemed to realize she would not be able to get away from the elf physically, so she tried to outwit him with the aid of a smoking branch and a river.

She would have succeeded. Normally, even elves would not be able to track through fast-moving water, but the elf could smell the sweet apple cider smell drifting along the wind, and he followed the smell to a campfire, but this time he did not reveal himself.

He knew if he did, she would run again, and judging by the pallor of her face, it would not bode well for her if she tried to run again. So he waited, guarding the night for her, as she fell away into the land of dreams.

"How did you know I came upstream?" Arin Calad asked again when the elf did not reply. The intensity in the elf's blue gaze returned as he refocused on her again.

"I knew," was the simple answer that the elf finally gave that did not really answer anything at all.

Arin Calad furrowed her brow at the non-answer: "what?" she shook her head, "never mind," her hands clenched and unclenched nervously, "what do you want?"

"That is a curious question as thou art the one trespassing on my land," the pale-haired elf said as he took a step towards her slowly and purposefully.

His land?

This was Eryn Galen, or more commonly known to humans as Greenwood. In the Third Age its name was changed to Mirkwood because of the darkness that fell upon it. But to the best of her knowledge, Eryn Galen was first ruled by Oropher who then passed the kingship to Thranduil after his death in the Battle of Dagorlad.

Second Age…

Pale-haired elf riding northward from the south, returning from a battle, with his people…

Second Age…battle…

If the battle had been the Battle of Dagorlad…

Her eyes widened even more as she stared at the elf standing in front of her.

The silvery blue eyes, the pale almost white hair, and the proud bearing…

She took a step backward: "you are…you are Thran…" she clasped a hand against her mouth to muffle the remainder of the word, but it was too late.

"So thou know of I." It was a statement; it wasn't even a question.

She swallowed and shook her head automatically; she looked like a cornered rabbit, wide-eyed and panicking.

"What is thy name," the Elvenking asked; although his voice was not unkind, it demanded a response.

"I…" The primal instinct of fight or flight told her to choose flight.

The Elvenking must have seen what she wanted to do in her eyes because he said in that calm but assertive voice that seemed to be his usual tone as he took another step towards her: "thou may run, but as thou can now seest, I will find thee. What is thy name?"

She started to take another step back, but her back hit the tree behind her, telling her there was nowhere else for her to go.

The elf stared at her again, his blue eyes bright and piercing.

"I will not harm thee," he finally added in a strangely stilted and quiet voice; his the words were thickly accented as if he was unused to speaking such terms, "tell I thy name."

She studied him cautiously; unsure of whether she should tell an elf who was famed for his aloofness and his cold heart, and occasionally an iciness that bordered on cruelty. This was the elf who had thrown Thorin and Bilbo in jail to rot for hundreds of years. This was the elf who had refused to provide aide to any being outside of Eryn Galen, who didn't care if the other beings lived or died.

"Why do you care?" She asked; she knew it was dangerous to push the severe Elvenking who had no qualms beheading a bounded orc, but she had never been a pushover and she was not about to start being one now.

"I would like to know who enters my realm," the young Elvenking said with a patience that surprised Arin Calad; she thought judging by what she had read about the Elvenking, he would have held a knife to her throat by now.

So she decided to take the chance and said softly: "Arin, Arin Calad."

The Elvenking raised a pale eyebrow perfectly arched above his icy blue eyes: "a Quenya name?"

Arin Calad blinked and stared at him in confusion: "no? It's just a name."

"Thou do not knowst? In Quenya Arin Calad means 'morning radiance.'"

"I…no…I did not know that." Arin Calad shook her head and stared at him, bewildered, unsure of what the Elvenking wanted.

"Where art thy kin? From where thou camest?" The Elvenking asked as he took another step towards her; the elf's legs were long, and this step placed him with a mere inch of space between them.

A faint rosy flush dusted Arin Calad's pale cheeks.

Too close.

The elf was too close.

Unlike the other elves she had read about, the aura around the pale-haired elf was not gentle and full of aged wisdom. It was powerful, almost to the point of forceful, and commanding. It was not to say he was not wise or gentle. There was a sort of stiff quietness in the way he spoke to her that somehow she felt was his version of gentleness. There was also wisdom and experience in his eyes, but all of them were incomparable to the pure force of his confidence and strength. And in close proximity, it was overwhelming and threatened to drown Arin Calad along with the cool evergreen and pine scent.

The aura seemed to push out all the available oxygen in the air around them until Arin Calad felt she would be suffocated, but she held her chin up stubbornly and met the cool blue gaze.

"Why did thou help I and my kin?" The elf persisted in his questions as he added another one. He bent his head and leaned in until their noses were almost touching, "are thou afraid of I, Arin Calad?"

She raised her hands to push him back; the Elvenking wrapped his long fingers around her wrists and held them in place against his chest. If this action had been taken by anyone else, it would have elicited a storm of panic within her. Yet this elf's touch did the opposite. It quieted her pounding heart and fear within seconds.

Her face alternated rapidly between pale and red at the odd reaction she was having: "let go of me. Let go of me right now."

"Not until thou give I a few answers."

Arin Calad blamed what happened next on adrenaline and pure freaking out. With her wrists still in the elf's grasps, she grabbed hold of the elf's hands, turned, and using the momentum of the turn, she flung the elf over her shoulders.

If she had waited and see, she would have seen the elf flew through the air but landed lightly on his feet, not even out of breath or had a hair out of place; his eyes blazed silver with surprise but also amusement. However, after she threw the elf, Arin Calad was absolutely horrified at what she had done; she immediately turned tails and ran as fast as she could away from the elf.

As she had expected the last time she ran away from the elf, she was fast, but she was nowhere as fast as the elf chasing her. This time without less distance between them and no smoking wood in sight, the Elvenking caught up to her less than a minute later, and stopped her with a hand around her arm, tight enough to restrict her movements, but loose enough to not bruise her.

"I told thee. If thou run, I will find thee," the Elvenking murmured against her ear as he leaned in.

Arin Calad pushed away from him again; he allowed her to move back, but only slightly: "you need to let me go, right now, Elda."

"I am not accustomed to be spoken to thus, Arin Calad," the Elvenking said in his still composed voice, but the steely tone that had just been beneath the surface was starting to reveal itself, "I want thou to answer my questions."

"And if I do not, what will you do?" Arin Calad snapped back, albeit with trembling voice, "kill me? Imprison me?"

"Perhaps, though the Dark Lord has been defeated, evil still lurks in this land," the Elvenking said blandly, "I have legitimate reasons to do so, if I wish."

"So you will do it? Kill me?" Arin Calad couldn't help but let those words escape her in a fearful rush, her hands so cold and trembling.

Instead of answering her question, the Elvenking asked again: "Why did thou help I and my kin, Arin Calad?"

Why did she aide him?

She aided him because he was fighting for his people.

She aided him because he cared deeply for his people. There was something in his eyes, so strong and so powerful as he fought for his people, she could not let him die like that.

And she was glad she did.

Riding on his steed, seated there with his back straight, and his eyes blazing silver, he looked just like an angel. He was not perfect. He had faults, a lot of faults if the books were anything to go by, but he was good. And now that he had survived the first war against Sauron, he would be able to fight back the next wave of darkness.

She met his eyes and said slowly but firmly: "because you were fighting so hard for your people. You wished to protect them, and I could…I could see that it hurt you to see them hurt."

The Elvenking released his hold on her hands, but she did not try to run, because she found herself mesmerized by the way his blue eyes had suddenly turned bright silver as they looked at her, burning bright like the fires of stars in the night skies.

"And that was all it took for thee to place thyself in a battle despite your fears?" The Elvenking asked quietly.

"I was afraid; I was really scared," Arin Calad said her green eyes shimmering brightly and her lips quavering, "but you are good people. You want peace and happiness like all the other Free People. And peace is not peace if others are not at peace. And I do not need any other reasons to fight for that, no matter what. In the end, no matter how frightened I get, there are things in this world that are worth fighting for."

"Thou sound just as he did," at the sight of confusion in her eyes, the Elvenking continued, bitterness seeping into his voice, "my father. He answered the summons to the Last Alliance and led our people to war against Sauron, because he believed the same. He believed there will be no lasting peace if Sauron lives. Sauron has been vanquished, up to the last breath he drew, but the losses are too heavy."

Arin Calad could see the pain and the anger in the elf's eyes just before he looked away deep into the forest. It was heartbreaking. She knew how it excruciating it feels for someone to lose half of their friends and their families overnight, and now she was beginning to understand why the pale-haired elf became an isolationist later on. He did not want to see any more of his people's body scattered across a battlefield like broken toys discarded by an uncaring owner.

The cost of greater good…sometimes it can be harder to swallow than imagined.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she began softly, "and I know those words are inadequate for what you are feeling now. I never met your father, but he sounded like a wise…wise and brave elf, because he knew that evil will never be contained. It is relentless. It is a hungry void that wishes to consume anything and everything. If it is not stopped; eventually, it will take the entire land and no one will be safe, because how can you stop a hate that has no reason? How can you stop a hatred that cannot be reasoned with?"

The Elvenking turned back to her, his blue eyes now bright silver again as emotions too tumultuous and strong for Arin Calad to discern ran through him.

"I am very very sorry for your loss," Arin Calad repeated, "but you should be very proud of him, proud to be the son of a father who fought not only for his people but for the people of Middle Earth. You should be proud not just because he fought, but because he knew the risk yet he fought any…ways…" she came to a halting stop when she realized the elf seemed to be lost in his own world yet again. She did not blame him; he had just lost so many people.

She carefully and silently made her retreat, giving the elf his space. By the time the Elvenking came out of his thoughts, she had disappeared again; however, to the Elvenking's trained eyes, she left a clear trail, unlike in Dagorlad.

There was no hesitation as he followed the trail into the forest.


	4. Chapter 4

_She carefully and silently made her retreat, giving the elf his space. By the time the Elvenking came out of his thoughts, she had disappeared again; however, to the Elvenking's trained eyes, she left a clear trail, unlike in Dagorlad. _

_There was no hesitation as he followed the trail into the forest. _

Arin Calad did not even need to turn around or see him to know that the Elvenking had caught up to her again. She could feel his powerful presence and smell the cold evergreen and pine scent feet away. She sighed and slowly turned to look into the dense foliage behind her.

"What do you want?" She asked quietly.

The Elvenking melted out of the dark shadows of the forest just like the way the silvery moonlight would slowly shone through dispersing cloud. She had to steel herself to not gawk like a little girl at the rather ethereal sight. The evidence of her action, clenching her hands tightly together and biting her lips, was obvious. However, the Elvenking misinterpreted the reason behind her action.

He raised his right hand and said with a quietness that, this time Arin Calad was sure, was Elvenking's equivalent of gentleness given the certain stiffness and noticeable lilt to his tone that she had heard previously which reflected his unfamiliarity with such tone and words: "I give thee my word: I will not harm thee."

Well, that was not exactly what made Arin Calad steeled herself, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't at all afraid of facing the great Elvenking of Eryn Galen. The books had painted the Elvenking as a cold and harsh ruler, but she also read between the lines and found the pale-haired elf to be an honorable elf with great pride in his family, his people, and his race. In her world, a word may not mean anything at all, but in his world, a word meant everything.

She wasn't used to trusting anyone's word, but even if she didn't know him, even if she never read those books, she could read people. And right now, she could tell the Elvenking was making a tremendous effort to try and be kind to her, judging by how thick the elf's lyrical accent was.

"Alright, I believe you," Arin Calad said as she unclenched her fingers and looked up to meet his downy blue gaze.

The faint smile of amusement appeared on the Elvenking's face and a small silver glint shone in his eyes: "is it that simple? Just moments ago I saw fear in thy eyes in face of I."

Arin Calad's eyes softened until it was a velvety shade of emerald; although her lips did not smile, the corners of her eyes turned up: "you gave your word, and your word is your honor, isn't it?"

"And how doth thou know that?" The silver glint shone even brighter in the Elvenking's blue eyes.

She did not reply; she did not want to say anything that would give the elf any suspicion what she knew, but even if she did not say anything her face gave her away. Although she was not the open book that most humans were to elves, her emotions were still obvious enough for the Elvenking to see.

"Thou know of I," the Elvenking said with a well concealed wonderment that the Arin Calad barely caught. Her green eyes blanked and turned almost as hard as diamonds. She looked away and into the depths of the forest. "Thou art afraid," realization hit the Elvenking as he said slowly, "but not of I, now, of," the Elvenking tilted his head slightly as he studied her, "is someone hunting thee, Arin Calad?"

She swallowed and shook her head reflexively: "no."

"Thou art not speaking the truth," the Elvenking said thoughtfully; there was a minute of silence before he reached up, unpinned the brooch on his chest, and pulled off his cloak and set it on the ground. She furrowed her brow slightly at the strange action, but her frown deepened when he walked away from the cloak and sat down a few feet away from the coppery fabric, with one leg straight against the grassy floor and the other bent, allowing his arm to rest lightly over his knee. The relaxed posture relieved Arin Calad in some ways, because the elf was sitting in an open position that was less predatory and friendlier. He gestured towards the cloak with an elegant wave of his hand: "please, take a seat."

She bit her lips again; she'd lost count how many times she had done it, but knew there were enough times that her bottom lips had become bruised. She pondered over what she should do and hovered indecisively over where she stood. Finally, she made her decision and slowly made her ways over to the cloak. She sat down carefully; her fingers glanced over the soft fabric lightly as she looked back at him nervously.

"Let us make a trade, Arin Calad," the Elvenking said as he caught and held her gaze firmly, "thou will not speak a word of falsehood, and in return, if there is a question thou doth not wish to answer thou may say so and I will not push."

She breathed in deeply and replied with a guarded look in her eyes: "what if I refuse?"

"Tis thy choice." From the man's history, or rather future and the one that she has read, she was not inclined to believe him, but the steady light in his eyes told her he would respect her decision.

The elf waited patiently as she mulled over her thoughts. She wanted badly to trust someone; she wasn't an extrovert before this, not by far, but she enjoyed making friends and hanging out with them. But she had spent the past year alone, all alone, and constantly in fear of being discovered and what would happen to her if she was discovered.

Once she knew where she was, she thought about looking for Rivendell or Mithrandir. They would have the power to keep her safe, would they not? After all, Rivendell kept Aragorn safe for all those years.

But then she decided against it, because what if they did not believe her? What if they thought she was an evil being?

And then when she realized she was in the Second Age instead of the Third Age, there was no way she could go to Lord Elrond or Mithrandir, because Curunír would catch wind of her, which would mean Sauron would know of her existence and that would mean certain death for her, or worse, certain death for the Free People.

So she chose solitude.

Certainly, seeking the aid of the Elvenking had never even crossed her mind. In fact, he had been pretty high up on the list of people she wanted to avoid, somewhere up there with Sauron, Curunír, Galadriel, the Ringwraiths and Gollum. After all, taking a one-hundred year tour of the Elvenking's Hall alternative wine cellar was not exactly the most exciting thing.

Her fingers scrunched up the soft fabric beneath her hands and she bit her lips so hard that the already pale skin turned white around the edge of her teeth from the force.

The books had described the pale-haired Elvenking as bigoted, stubborn, cold, and a mere centimeter away from being outright cruel, but she was beginning to realize that the elf in the books was not quite the same as the elf in front of her. Sure, he was not going to win any personality award anytime soon, but he was kind, or at least he was trying his best to be, and that, for Arin Calad, meant very much.

If someone had asked her a few weeks ago whether she would tell this elf anything, she would not even pause in saying 'no.' But now, she was not so sure.

Finally she made a preliminary decision: "alright, you have…three questions, for now."

The blue eyes glowed warmly even though the marble façade remained stern: "that is fair," he inclined his head slightly, "you are of Men, are you not?"

She glanced at him in surprise; she had not expected him to ask a question where the answer was so obvious, especially when he only have three to start off with. But she nodded slowly: "Yes, I am."

"But thou art not of any of the Men kinds on Middle-Earth."

She pulled in a breath sharply; she had not expected him to ask that question. She had not even thought it would be something the elf would ever consider. She wanted to deny right away, but she had agreed to not lie, and she refused to go back on her word. While she may not be of this world, she did not like lying any more than the elves. She had to do it before because she thought it was necessary; she thought if she did, she would get what she wanted, or at least what she thought she wanted. But now, she was given a chance to start over, to not be a thoroughly awful human being.

And even if she lied, her gasp had already betrayed her. The surprise had already told the elf his answer, or at least part of it anyways. So she answered, in a voice so soft that it was barely audible over the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze: "No, I am not. I am…to the best of my knowledge, the only one, now."

If the Elvenking was surprised by the additional response she provided, he did not show it; though even if he did, she would not have seen it, because she had looked away from her again, into the forest, which meant she did not notice when the elf's blue orbs suddenly flashed bright silver for a brief second either, or when he turned slightly and looked into the shadowed forest a few feet away from Arin Calad and shook his head with the barest movement.

However, she did notice when the Elvenking stood up in one swift graceful movement causing her to stumble up quickly as well, and stared at him cagily. He gave a very faint smile, but this time it was not of amusement, but of reassurance, and the difference was stunning. This smile made his face _beautiful_. She was not talking about a physical beauty, because like all elves, the Elvenking was incredibly lovely with physical features that women of her time would simply _faint_ over. Beauty in elves was about as normal as sun emitting UV rays. No, the smile made his marble features warm, and made his blue eyes so soft, bewitchingly so, that she could simply just stare at them all day.

A faint pink flush rose up her pale cheeks and reached up to the outer shells of her ears: "what…what do you want now?"

"I believe we shall continue the conversation at a later date," the elf said to her disbelief.

She furrowed her brow again: "how do you know I will still be here tomorrow?"

Confidence that tittered on the edge of arrogance entered the blue orbs: "you will be safe here."

"Why…why…would you…you…think I am in danger?" She stammered out.

The Elvenking did not reply to her question; instead, the light of amusement entered his eyes: "I will see thee again, _labothil_." And with that he disappeared into the shadows of the forest before she could say anything else.

It was not until later that she learned _labothil_ meant bunny, or little rabbit.

And then she realized his cloak was still on the ground; she snatched it up and held it out: "wait! Your cloak!"

But there was no movement, and he did not reappear again.

A few yards into the forest, the pale-haired Elvenking stopped and two of his Elven Guards appeared beside him form the forest.

(Lachêl, Astaldë, your tracking have improved.)

(My lord, we were concerned about your absence. The times are still dark.) The brown-haired elf spoke up as he bowed with a hand to his chest.

(Thou worry in excess, Lachêl,) the Elvenking replied dismissively.

(My lord, and what of the human? Should we escort her out of Eryn Galen?) The other elf, also brown-haired, presumably Astaldë, asked.

The Elvenking shook his head: (no, you two, stay with her and ensure her safety, but do not alert her to thy presence. One of thee report back to I tomorrow morn'.)

The two Elven Guards stared at each other in surprise but if they wished to protest, they did so silently. Instead, the two elves bowed: (Aye, my lord,) the two said in unison and disappeared back towards the direction the Elvenking had come from.

Meanwhile, oblivious to the presence of the two Elven Guards, Arin Calad dusted off the silver cloak and carefully folded it into a neat square. She glanced around the empty forest, or seemingly empty forest.

Perhaps she should just leave?

But leaving would mean uncertainty over food and her safety.

And the Elvenking was right.

As of now, Eryn Galen was safe for her. Darkness had not claimed it. The Silvan elves were strong and the forces of evil did not dare to encroach into these lands, at least not yet, evidenced by how the orcs had attacked before the elves entered the forest instead of after.

The Elvenking also did not seem to present any source of danger to her. Given his nature, or the nature the book had described, if he had wanted to jail or kill her, he would have done so by now.

She was still tired, with perhaps the onset of a cold or a flu.

Again, she really did not want to get sick in Middle-Earth.

And the Elvenking had been kind; well, not kind in the literal sense, but he had been as kind as he could be to a total stranger in these times, and for that she was grateful.

It had been so long she had talked to someone who was not an animal, and she enjoyed it more than she would like to admit. Before she came here, she had always thought she would fare perfectly well if she lived as a hermit. Guess there goes that theory of hers.

She wasn't a born loner after all.

And…though it may sound crazy, the forest was also kind. It felt welcoming. It felt…warm. It felt exactly the opposite of what she had expected from Eryn Galen. She had expected it to be dark, and cold. Yet, the forest almost felt like…home.

She let out another sigh and ran a frustrated hand through her hair.

Her stomach rumbled, silently reminding her that she had not eaten anything for twelve hours. She chewed the inside of her cheeks for a few seconds before deciding that she would probably think better on a full stomach so she went off in search of more fruits and edible vegetation.

Twenty hours later, Lachêl dropped down from the branches he had been running on to the forest floor in front of the Elvenking near the Hall.

(My lord, good day,) the Elven Guard bowed his head with a hand over his heart.

The Elvenking nodded as he turned around to look back at the Hall: (report.)

(The human is well; she has not moved too far since yesterday.) Lachêl reported dutifully.

The Elvenking nodded: (has she eaten?) The thoughts of the young woman's wan appearance and frail frame prompted the question out of his mouth before he even processed the thoughts.

This time the Elven Guard stared at the Elvenking in surprise and failed to reply promptly. The Elvenking turned around and raised a pale eyebrow at the stunned guard in expectation of an answer. If the Elvenking had let slip the question unbeknownst to himself, he did not let it show: (Lachêl?)

The guard cleared his throat to cover the awkwardness: (Apologies, my lord. She ate some fruits.)

The Elvenking frowned: (the habits of Men are not as familiar to I, but that is not enough, is it?)

Poor Lachêl probably had less experience with Men than his liege, but he did the best he could with the information he had heard from other people: (I believe you are correct, my Lord.)

The pale-haired elf's frown deepened and remained silent for a few minutes; Lachêl waited uneasily, but he hid it well. He had grown up with the Elvenking, and while he would have negated any statement about the young ruler's cruelty and callousness, he will also admit, although never openly, that the Elvenking was never emotional, and though he cared about his people, the care did not extend to non-elves. It was not that the young ruler hated the other races, but he placed his people above all others. His people's welfare and peace meant everything to him, and as a result, everything else got pushed to a back burner.

This was the first time Lachêl had heard the young ruler expressing care and asked questions about a human, and though the Elvenking may not actually express kindness openly, asking his own Elven Guards to protect a human was more than kindness. It was a gesture that the Elvenking reserved for family.

And this gesture made Lachêl nervous, because it was unexpected, but more than that, it also made Lachêl curious.

He recognized the human woman as the red-haired figure in the Brown Lands. Like the other elves, he had been stunned beyond belief when, by what seemed to be magic, the woman turned a third of the orc horde into ash and lit the other third on fire, leaving the remaining third hobbling with fear and shock.

She was human; her round-shell ears were as obvious as her blazing red tresses. Yet he had never heard of a human capable of such sorcery; therefore, an automatic suspicion dawned on his mind. He was sure the other elves had the same distrust, and before last night he would have said, without a doubt, that the young ruler had the most doubt out of them all.

Yet, he didn't.

And after his observation of the woman, his guard was lowered as well.

There was no malice, anywhere, within the woman. While elves can read humans like an open book, nature were even more sensitive to evil, because they did not have hearts or desires to be manipulated. And Eryn Galen's nature _loved_ the woman. Non-elves, especially those from the Third Age, would have agreed that Eryn Galen was sentient, but they would have said that the consciousness was evil; it was the darkness that had spread from Dol Guldur. But the Eryn Galen in the Second Age was not filled with evil; Sauron had not taken over the ancient fortress yet and poisoned the forest with spells and curses, and cut down any tree or creature that resisted its taint. The Eryn Galen now was a protector of the elves that lived within its boundary; it nourished them and watched over them.

And if Eryn Galen had sensed any evil within the woman, its leaves and branches would not have parted way before the woman when she entered and traveled within its boundaries. Yet, right before the Elven Guards' eyes, the leaves, the branches, and the brambles parted before the woman's path. It showed her its fruits, and gave her the songs and company of its woodland creatures.

Non-elves would not have noticed or known such care by the forest, but the elves could see it, because to the elves, nature and everything it encompasses were all living, breathing beings.

Non-elves would not have noticed or cared to know.

But the woman must have noticed something, because her actions were extraordinary for her kind. Before the woman took something from the forest, she would give her thanks. Beings other than elves never did so, because to them, nature was just an inanimate object there for the taking.

Of course, the two Elven Guards did not know that Arin Calad had read about this world, and she knew, no matter how long the trees have been asleep; they were still alive to her. She couldn't imagine taking a branch from an Ent without asking or thanking them, because it would like taking an arm or a leg without asking. She loved Treebeard in the story. She wanted to cry, when she was a child, when she found out that there would be no more Ents, and that they were dying, all of them.

To her, it was a world of fantasy where trees and animals come to life, and never seemed to be what they were on the surface. And she looked at this world with a reverence for the magic it contained. She wanted to think that once upon a time her world was like this as well, and perhaps if she had looked harder or tried harder, she would have found magic there too, but she knew that was just wishful thinking.

So she chose to preserve what magic she could here by showing the reverence she felt, and hoped, against all hope, that perhaps maybe some magic would survive into the future for Men who would eventually take over Arda.

The Elven Guards, of course, knew none of this. Naturally, they thought it strange for one of Men to do such action. It was a distinctively elvish action from a being who was clearly _not_ an elf. And Arin Calad's action unwittingly helped her lessened her suspicion to the elves.

The young ruler of Eryn Galen finally spoke up: (return to Astaldë; I will be there shortly. Once I arrive, thou may both take thy leave for the day and rest. I will wait for thee and Astaldë tomorrow morn', and thou will continue thy protection.)

Lachêl nodded and bowed his head low with a hand over his chest: (Aye, my lord,) and with that he was gone.

Half an hour later and a few kilometers away, Arin Calad had just cleansed her face and was straightening her slightly rumpled clothes when she felt his presence. She ignored it for now and climbed up a few inches on a nearby tree, and then came down with the cloak she had folded neatly into a square. She turned back to the presence in the shadows of the forest and held out the cloak.

"You forgot this yesterday."

Like last time, the Elvenking slowly melted out of the forest and appeared, an ethereal fae out of the shadows. Warmth seeped into her soul at his mere presence, a feeling that disconcerted her. And she would have gone down a swirling dark hole of panic and thoughts if he had not continued to walk towards her and did not stop until he was mere inches away from her; Arin Calad's breath stopped in her throat and a faint flush rose from her cheeks to the outer shell of her ears, but unlike before, she did not step back. She held herself up against the Elvenking's overwhelming presence that made her insides flip flop like a rollercoaster, and tilted her chin up stubbornly. However, the tension in her shoulders and the way she was biting down on her lower lips gave her anxiety away.

He set the bundle he had in his hands down on the forest floor as he looked at her, his blue eyes seemingly taking her in and analyzing her with robotic efficiency.

The smooth marble brow furrowed at the increased pallor and the dark mottled shadows under her eyes, and the way her breath frosted in shivering gasps in the cold morning air. Her clothes were not overly baggy, but her wrists, thin enough for him to hold both in one hand and still have room left, swam in the sleeve openings.

He took the cloak and to Arin Calad's surprise, as expressed by her muscles pulling so taut that it seemed she might snap with a mere push, he unfolded the square and pulled it over her shoulders, covering her. He folded the top so that the ends would not drag on the ground before he pulled the silver brooch off his cloak and pinned the front of the thick fabric together on top of her left shoulders. The copper fabric made her crimson hair shone even brighter under the warm sunlight. His own cloak now hung precariously over his broad shoulders, threatening to fall to the ground any second.

Arin Calad didn't know what to think or do at the strange and beyond unexpected action from the Elvenking. She could only stare at him with wide confused emerald eyes; the scent of evergreen and pine surrounded her, and warmth pooled in the depths of her soul as she took in the scent. Still in a state of shock, she watched as the Elvenking removed his currently clean cloak and set it on the ground before he led her to sit down on it with his fingers around her wrist; she could feel nothing except the heat of his fingers around her wrist.

Just like before, his mere touch quieted the noise and turmoil within her.

The Elvenking released his hold on her wrist and the uncertainties and disquiet rose again within her. Her eyes widened even more as he unwrapped the cloth bundle on the floor to reveal some sort of bread and cheese, fruits, some sort of smoked meat, and two flasks.

A single shudder went through her when he pulled out a dagger; blue eyes glanced up at her, a light reassurance brightly visible. She let out a breath and gave a nod. A faint smile curved the Elvenking's eyes though, again, did not lift the corner of his lips. He sliced the loaf of bread, then the cheese, and then the meat, stacking the three elements together to form a sandwich. He held the sandwich out to her, and waited patiently as she stared at it, unmoving.

"Thou need to eat," the Elvenking said quietly when after a few seconds she still froze there. It was that quietness she had heard before, a quietness that gave her the same feeling as gentle kindness would.

She looked up and back at him; he did not look like he was about to back down. It just wasn't in his nature. But then she had not think it was it was in his nature to feed a human woman either; yet, here he was.

She took the sandwich from him and under his watchful eyes; she took a bite, chewed, and then swallowed. She managed to take four more bites before her unfortunate stomach protested at the unusual amount and richness, and refused anymore.

She looked back up at him, apologetically: "I'm full."

A frown, unnoticed by Arin Color, cut into his brow again, but was not reflected his demeanor as he took the sandwich from her and set it down on a smaller piece of cloth without any rebuke. He uncorked one of the flasks and held it out to her: "drink."

This time there was only a few seconds of hesitation before she took the flask and took a sip form it. She couldn't help but made a face at the bitter liquid that trickled down her throat: "what…is this," she coughed.

"Herb tea," the Elvenking replied, "keep drinking."

She obediently took another sip before she asked: "do you all just drink this for fun?"

A light of amusement entered the elf's blue eyes, giving them a sheen of silver: "no, tis for health."

"I will take your word for it," Arin Calad winced again as she took a third sip. The Elvenking omitted to mention to her that the herb tea was rarely given out, even to elves, because most of its ingredients were very difficult to find, and some could only be harvested once every hundred year or under certain conditions. And then after mixing, the herb tea had to mature under moonlight for 7,300 nights, and during Sauron's reign, it had been difficult to find a cloudless night for enough moonlight to shine through.

She started to lower the flask but held it up again when a pale eyebrow rose up. By the time Arin Calad had downed one-third of the flask, she could feel warmth traveling down to her hands and feet, and color entered her cheeks and lips.

She let out a slow breath and stared down at the flask in awe: "This is…what was in this?"

Instead of replying to her question right away, the Elvenking asked: "cannst thou eat more?"

She shook her head and said wryly: "I'm now full on liquid too."

The Elvenking nodded and deftly packed up the food; he stood up and held out a hand to her. She took it with an inquiring look before she reached down and picked up the cloak. She frowned at the dirt and leaf stains on the underside.

"You will have a hard time washing this too," she said regretfully.

This time amusement entered the elf's voice: "it hath seen worse."

She looked up at him, a thoughtful look entered her eyes. The Elvenking could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she studied him, her emerald orbs slowly softening until a light warmth entered her eyes, a warmth he had never seen in her before, and a small hesitant smile curved her lips.

"Do you want this back on? It is slightly dirty, but it is still cold," she asked, "I can give you back the…," her hand went to the brooch on her shoulder.

"If tis cold, then thou should keep the cloak on," the Elvenking said and though his tone was quiet, his words brooked no room for argument.

Arin Calad pursed her lips: "okay, without the brooch then?" She held her hand out for the cloth bundle he was holding.

The Elvenking did not reply, but gave her the bundle. She took that as an affirmative. She shouldered the bundle and dusted off the cloak the best she could, trying very hard to push back the sweet and cool scent of evergreen and pine that rose from the cloak she was wearing as her movements shifted the fabric; the scent elicited another draught of warmth within her. However, this time, she was the one who surprised the elf to the extent that his eyes flashed bright silver until they were not blue at all.

She tiptoed and draped the fabric over the much taller elf the best she could, though he also bent slightly to ease her effort. Given that the Elvenking was missing a certain brooch, she had to improvise. She took the black rings from her fingers and slipped one into one of the two corners of the cloak before carefully tying the ring to the cloak leaving a segment of the fabric so that the ring dangled in a loop. Still holding both ends of the cloak together with one hand, she unwound the braided rope that held her braid. She tied one end to one ring, threading it through the lace holes of his shirt in a simple patter to distribute the weight of the cloak thoroughly so that it would not wrinkle or stress the shirt fabric. A deeper red flush forced its way up her cheeks as the work brought her fingers dangerously close to the elf's warm skin that felt almost scalding, although that may be her imagination. She swallowed and then finished tying the other end to the other ring.

Arin Calad stood back on her heels and looked over her work: "it's not pretty, but it's utilitarian." She slowly looked up to meet the elf's eyes and had to swallow again at the blazing silver intensity and the way his nose flared slightly as he took each breath. Her first instinct was that the elf was angry at the infringement on his personal space, but while the silver coloring of his eyes indicated a strong emotion, it did not feel negative.

She took a step back hurriedly and decided to play on the safe side as words rushed out of her in one breath: "I'm sorry. If you dislike it, you can take it off."

The Elvenking did not say anything right away; instead, he took in measured breaths until his eyes slowly returned to its previous sky blue hue until finally he said in the quietest tone she had ever heard from him: "I thank thee."

The tone made her cheeks flushed bright red.

He gently extricated the bundle from her hand and slung it over his shoulders before he held out his other arm to her.

She turned a brighter shade of red if it was possible.

Her hand halted mere centimeters above his proffered arm.

"You are very kind to me…why?" she asked softly but guardedly, looking down at the silver fabric of his sleeve; her stance was not of a rabbit readied for flight this time; instead, it was a hedgehog, prickly, readied to protect herself.

A silver glint flickered in the elf's eyes: "Thou did not need a reason when thou saved I and my people without reason and without hesitation."

She bit down on her lower lips: "I mean no disrespect or insult," she said carefully, "but I am…not an elf. I am not of Eryn Galen."

Eryn Galen.

It was what elves called their home.

Others called it Greenwood the Great.

Men…Men always called it Greenwood.

A silver sheen covered the blue orbs again as the Elvenking felt the last link of inevitability fell into place.

Elves knew; they always knew. The instinct, the knowledge, was built into the deepest part of their soul, of their mind, of their body, of their very being.

And the Elvenking knew, and had known beyond a shadow of a doubt, since that day when he saw her dancing in his woods. He had not known many Men, but he knew it was not the same for them. Most Men did not feel as deep or as long, and most importantly, they did not _know_, and they did not _believe_.

But he was not deterred, because he will not lose her; he _cannot_ lose her.

And he knew, she _felt_.

She trusted him, at least more than she did before.

And she smiled.

It had been a small smile, but he had caught it and tucked it away in his mind like a dwarf hording gold.

But he knew he could not push.

Because elves felt deeper and longer, they could read and feel emotions within others easily. This trait had often been mistaken by other beings as the ability to read their minds.

Elves could not read minds, but they could feel.

And the Elvenking could feel the deep pain and scars within Arin Calad. A steely light went through his blue orbs and a flash of ruthlessness went across his face that went unseen above the woman's bowed head. Someone, a worthless orc of a being who did not deserve to breathe even the same air as Arin Calad, had hurt her before, and hurt her badly.

Now, she had shuttered herself away, in fear and alone, but he knew all was not lost, because despite the grievous wound within her, she believed in the goodness of the world and of the beings in the world.

She still had hope and faith, and the Elvenking did not want her to lose that. He did not want to hurt her.

But he cannot lose her.

His blue eyes shone beautifully as he gazed down at the greatest gift the Valar had ever given him.

So strange that his heart and soul had been filled with such despair and anguish but a few days ago, when the world had seemed so dark and so bleak in his every waking moment. Yet, now, his heart felt whole for the first time in his death.

The Valar took away his people and his father in this fight against evil, but they also allowed him to meet her.

To Arin Calad, the Elvenking's scent alone made her feel warm. It was not the same warmth from Colleen or the forest, which was a welcoming, home-like feeling. The warmth from the Elvenking made her felt safe and dissipated the squall that was usually swirling violently within her. She did not know why.

She also did not know that her presence alone gave the Elvenking not only warmth, but also hope and strength, the hope and strength to go on, to have faith, and to believe.

_I am…not an elf. I am not of Eryn Galen._

She was not.

And it did not matter, because she was of his _soul_.

But those were not his words when he spoke up in that quiet voice that had started to become familiar to Arin Calad: "and I and my people were not Men, yet thou saved us. Let I return the same goodness and kindness thou showed us," he did not want to frighten her away so he chose his words judiciously, "believe I, Arin Calad; have faith in I."

Stress lines deepened around the corners of her mouth when she heard those words. She believed in the courage and the goodness of the Free People despite their faults. Should she not give the Elvenking the same latitude? But that was treading in an unsettling territory, because if she started to think Thranduil was not like what the book described him as, then that meant the book might not be the future that would happen, and that was frightening. The future that was written in the book had to happen.

She bit down on her lower lips, but she did not want to be unfair, especially to the one being that had shown her kindness in this world.

Have faith…

In the end, the Elvenking did cleanse Eryn Galen of evil with Lord Celeborn's help, and Legolas…his son had been brave, kind, and selfless, and an integral part of the Fellowship. Perhaps, like father, like son…

Have faith…

He _felt _nice.

He made her feel calm, not with insincere words of falsity, but just by his presence and touch.

"Arin Calad," the way he said her name, in that lyrical and quiet tone, made her heart trembled in ways it had never done before. She looked up; her head lifted centimeter by centimeter until finally her dark uncertain orbs met his blues ones tentatively, but when they did…she was lost. She could not breathe; she could not think. His eyes were clear and sharp as diamonds, and his chiseled face was hard and authoritarian like a Roman dictator; normally, the two features combined would set her teeth on edge. Together they made a harsh and icy image, but right now, he did not feel cold to her.

Blue was not cold. Blue was warmth and gentleness in the Elvenking. And the hard edges of his façade were not harsh; they emanated strength that gave her comfort.

And before she could process any movements in her brain, her body had already answered for her. Her hands dropped the rest of the way down through the air and rested on the Elvenking's arm.

A smile lifted the Elvenking's thin lips; it was a genuine smile this time, not just a faint shadow of a smile. Last time the faint trace had made him stunning. This time, with a genuine smile, he looked wondrous. His features glowed with a gentleness and warmth that was reminiscent of the soft silvery moonlight of a warm summer night.

The smile and the heat of his arm underneath her fingers calmed the raging storm within her, and she allowed the Elvenking to lead her on a stroll.


End file.
